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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133445">hollowed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffee_ghost/pseuds/Coffee_ghost'>Coffee_ghost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), dream - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dad Schlatt, DadSchlatt, Hurt/Comfort, No Dialogue, Specifically emotional hurt, Tommy needs a hug, WIP, dream team, no beta we die like men, techno needs a hug too</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:02:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,689</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffee_ghost/pseuds/Coffee_ghost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's four in the morning and dad schlatt is giving me so much free joy I had to join the fun. this has messed with my sleep more than I thought it would. </p><p> </p><p>Traumatized tubbo v surprisingly soft schlatt! Fight<br/>Or don't, please, tubbo just needs a hug</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity &amp; Jschlatt &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>600</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. hollowed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is my first work so be kind, and I'm doing g this on mobile so I have no idea what I'm doing</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>I manged to fuck up the formatting so bad, I deleted the first chapter and re-upload it, only to relies i have also deleted the comment, i made a fuck up</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>i edited and re formatted the original first chapter so it should be easier to read!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>any and all advice is very welcome!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>War left tubbo with all too much knowledge on ways to stop bleeding out, on how to conserve potions and supplies, on how to stay silent after waking up and wanting to sob. On walking around when his scars flashed white hot like the poison arrows were still embedded in him. Like that thick, sludge green poison never truly left.<br/>Only grew under his skin feed by fear and anger, stress and anguish.</p><p>War taught tubbo so much more than he ever wanted to know, but it still wasn't enough to stop him from sitting at the cold dining room table staring into space because the idea of sleeping sounded like a death sentence. He was so tired, schlatts new rule having him run down going over bills and laws,(even if having his opinions heard and respected and acknowledged was so much more than he ever expected, ever got under Wilbur).</p><p>schlatt was surprising kind in his own way, tubbo had enough time to sleep and eat and have his own life outside of his duties. He should have anyways, keeping Wilbur up to date(satisfied and sated in the knowledge that tubbo was still,"loyal" treating him like an unruly dog). Running from Niki to eret to Wilbur and Tommy being the errand boy for so many people made his life harder. made his sleep schedule a roulette wheel of none to four hours. hed lost weight, he looked hollowed out from it all. Gaunt and pale. Wilbur blamed schlatt, used it as fuel for Tommy hate. ( refused to acknowledge his own fault in this, in tubbos own sinking)</p><p>Schlatt hadn't said anything but tubbo had caught the worried glance quackty gave him sometimes. The looks over dinner, glances in the hallways. The tick of the clock brought him back to himself. Away from Wilbur and Tommy and how oppressive pogtopia seemed every time he ventured back. His eyes refocused on the wall in front of him, or what had been a wall and was now a man's face. Bright yellow eyes staring back at him, sunlight glinting off the polished horns and streaming through brown hair. Focusing on one thing for too long made his heart hurt and his eyes begin to water.</p><p>God, he missed his best friend.</p><p>Missed having someone to cling to after nightmare, missed having someone to laugh at his terrible stitched wounds(trying to ignore the horror of being sixteen and knowing how to sew himself back together).schlatt gently set a hand on his shoulder, warm fingers and hands, and tubbo broke. It had been so long since someone had laid a hand on him that wasn't bloody or trembling or filled with an intent to hurt. His eyes overflowed and a hitching, broken sob forced its way out. Schlatt didn't pull his hand away(surprising, tubbo couldn't remember the last time Wilbur had held him through something like this, a time before all he had was Tommy, was there ever one?) Schlatt pulled tubbo against his chest.</p><p>warping his arms around tubbos thining shoulders and letting the kid heave into his chest. Every hitching breath made tubbos shoulder blades dig into schlatts arms, thin and hollow. So much like a bird much too young to leave the nest. Schlatt let the child cry until he was empty, tell his shoulder stopped shaking. Even then he didn't pull away only, gently as he could, picked the kid up into his arms. Tubbo wasn't asleep, his eyes were open but there was nothing behind them. This hollowed shell of a child, of a smiling bright young man. Sunken cheeks giving his face a severe sharpness, bagged eyes leaving him looking years older than he should. He was so much smaller than he seemed, tight shoulders and thick soles giving tubbo the look of someone much older, (and that swirling in his eyes, the undercurrent of fear and exhaustion that was forever present). but now, without his shoes, without the crushing tenseness of his shoulders, he looked like a scared child,(and God he was, he was so afraid for all of them)</p><p>Tubbo was light, curled up agent schlatt chest it felt like he was carrying a child( he was, he was carrying a child and all the burdens that came along with that now). Eventually, they reached schlatt´s office. He deposited his precious cargo onto the couch, using the throw blanket to tuck the kid(his kid, everything in him screamed). Then, he sat and by the rising sunlight, he did his works. Industry, living spaces, food and water, trade deals passing over his desk as the day wore on.</p><p>It was well past lunch when tubbo started to wake, and even that was tainted with violence. He twisted and thrashed trying to run from an invisible enemy( for so long the specter that haunted him had been dream, now to be replaced with a figure in a brown coat and a look on his face that made tubbo fear for so much more than just his safety) schlatt was quick to stand and make his way to tubbo. Gently, as gently as he could(trying not to shatter the fragile taped together face of a cold, uncaring leader, trying desperately not to break for the child still fighting in his sleep). Threading his hands through Tubbos blond hair he softly hummed a tune he'd know for years. Letting the child(his child, his child) calm to the tune and the soft affection.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. lit in the harsh light if fire and obscured with smoke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tommy has to wonder if shclatt was right? of wilburs the villion of this story what does that make him? also technos there</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy ached. His ribs pulsed with pain as he breathed, pulling the bruised skin tight with every inhale. Wilber had got a heavy hit along his already damaged side.( was there a time when he didn't have bruises anymore?) techno had called off his sparing soon after the first crack on his ribs made Tommy double over in pain. saying he had to get back to his potatoes but the look in his eyes as he left said otherwise. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur disagreed.</p><p> </p><p>Wrenching Tommy back to his feet and tossing his sword back at him,(a look in his eyes that made Tommy's stomach roil). Wilbur had charged at Tommy, uncoordinated and almost feral, his form sloppy but he still hit hard. A sicking snap echoing through the ravine of pogtopai Tommy could swear the lanterns flickered for a second from the noise( or maybe his vision blacked for a second, maybe his rib shifting under his skin pulled him away from the man in front of him). He slips again, landing heavily on his knees, his hands scrambling from something to hold. the sound of shoes and hooves against stone the backdrop for his collapse. The world blurred under him(shouting from a deep rumbling voice like thunder over the mountains, what did you do to him!) Screaming voices echoing as his vision swam.  </p><p> </p><p>Rolling over in his bed and pulling the rough wool blankets tighter around his shoulders, trying to squash the pain out. (trying to replicate the feeling of a hug, of being held by his best friend) a light knock on his door made him freeze, hands gripping tighter on his blankets. Three more taps on the door, a rhythm he recognized.( he could have laughed, huddling terrified in his bed, what would Wilbur say)roughly pulling himself up, hissing through his teeth all the while. Gently pressing the button for his door(iron, when did he start to think of how to protect himself in his own ´home´?) </p><p> </p><p>it clicked open and in walked technoblade himself, dressed fully seemly ready to go to battle. His hair pulled up into its tight low braid, his cloak washed and fur puffed. He had a shoulder bag slung around one arm and another set around his hips.( why did he look ready to run? Why did Tommy have a bag tucked under his bed for the same reason?) in his arms he had a set of fresh bandages. He made quick work of wrapping tommys side. Quicker than Tommy could have at least, even raising his arm above his shoulder hurt. Made his chest light like a forest fire.(still, it hurt less than the unending pull back to his home, back to that stuped van) </p><p> </p><p> Techno spoke in a low tone, whispering apologies and plans in the same breath. Wishing he had done better by Tommy, wishing he'd seen Wilbur descent into, whatever he was now.( a man driven wild but not getting his way) techno worked quickly, setting Tommy's ribs back into place, pulling bandages tight and taught over bruised skin. Even quicker still he asked if Tommy was willing to run. Run and run until they were away from here, from the shadowed cracks and the ever-tightening grip of pogtopia,(of Wilbur). In return, Tommy comforted the older man. Assusherd him he wasn't to blame for what happened to Wilbur, that even Tommy( his right hand, his vice president) hadn't seen what would happen. </p><p> </p><p>At that moment something flashed through his head, what I schlatt was right?</p><p> </p><p>A flash of adrenaline pushed its way through his veins. What if schlatt was right? Wilbur was gone, too far from Tommy's arms to pull back. Tommy would have gone with him too. Would have walked down the same path Wilbur had taken if not for the memory of tubbo, or technos presence. Maybe Schlatt was right to exile them. Wilbur was the villain in all this and what did they make Tommy?(did it make him a monster as well? When had he started to think of Wilbur as a monster? When he was pulling arrows out of his friends, watching him bite back screams?)</p><p> </p><p>He didn't know. But in this moment, the pulsing pain in his side dimmed and technos hand reached out in front of him. He decided, quickly reaching under his bed he ripped out this bag and slung it over one shoulder. The slight clack of his and Tubbos' pictures steeled his resolve to run, to leave before he started to smell like the madness that had consumed Wilbur the same way the fire had the flag. The same way Wilbur seemed to always trail the smell of smoke. </p><p> </p><p>They made it out faster than expected, each steep echoed in the vast, lifeless cavern. Eventually, they emerged into the rising dawn. Setting off on technoes horse they ran. The clicking of picture frames sounded like ringing bells in the first light of the day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. molten gold sinks into deep water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tubbo woke slowly, for the first time in a long time. He wasn't chased out of his dreams by approaching figures, wasn't left kneeling in the rubble of his home(clutching his best friend in his arms and weeping) what he did wake to was the distance yet comforting smell of whisky and smoke(not smoke like lit tnt, not like the burning of fabric or the stench of cauterizing a wound)</p><p>He was warm.he felt warm for the first time in, in a while(why couldn't he remember how long he'd been cold? How long he'd been shivering under layers and layers of clothes.)There was a hand in his hair and he felt safe because of it, not despite it. It was strange, to wake up warm and content and safe. He'd gotten so used to cold floors and cold sheets and cold eyes watching his every move(dark cold eyes that used to be such a soft warm brown when they looked at him before, looked at both of them)</p><p>He woke softly, content and warm and happy. Pulling his eyes open he was ready to be cold(he wasn't, he wasn't ready to be lost in that fridged, stinging fog again, he didn't want to be cold, please) ready for reality to rip its way through and leave only what was in its wake(wasn't ready for the bandage to be ripped and the blood to drain, to leave him hollow and bleeding again). And yet as he blinked up at the ceiling he only saw the gilded trim and quartz mosaics. (schlatts offer of powers and safety and control ringing in his ears, the quiet voice that sounded too much like himself hoping for it to be true)</p><p>Drifting his eyes to the right he saw something he never expected to see, his president (wilbur had lost that title when he made Tommy into a thing of hate, shaped his friend into something he was never meant to be)schlatt, looking at him with, not fear(never fear), not pity weather, maybe guilt?care?it was a look that was so soft, and so full of emotion that tubbo couldn't name(maybe he could have if he'd seen it before hed watch good people die for trivial things, before he'd waited up at empty beds and prayed to anything that could hear that they'd come back) it was hard to tell anymore. But his eyes didn't seem that poison yellow that had for so long. Now like gold, like the last light of dusk or the first light of day, like a new beginning. </p><p>Schlatts hair was a mess, out of its normal style, pushed back like he'd been running his hands through it. Puffed up around the base of his horns. Missing his tie and sleeves hastily pushed up to his elbows(Tubbo couldn't remember when he learned to pick up details like that, could only remember how many times it had saved him from a painful death,)Schlatt looked so tired, more than he normally did. </p><p>Schlatt didn't say a word, still combing through tubbos hair. He watched as tubbo, his right hand,(his to protect)his favorite member of the cabinet. Watch as he opened his eyes, wide staring things that pooled emerald green in the center. Bags under his eyes, pale skin, a face that spoke of never truly coming back from the rationing of a rebellion.(of never truly getting to rest)</p><p>The kid blinked slowly, turning his eyes onto him for the first time since he could remember. Tubbo looked into his eyes and it felt as if everything he was was being weighed(Why did the thought of someone looking at him and believing he was good not frighten him anymore?). He only hoped tubbo was kind in his judgment,( that's all a parent every wants, for their child to forgive them for their transgressions)</p><p>Tubbo pulled his gaze away from the man next to him. Closing his eyes again he thought. Pulled memory after memory of schlatt into the light of those molten eyes. Into the frame and glow of how much care was pooling in them.( why couldn't he remember Wilber ever looking at him like that, like he was proud of him for simply existing, for living?)</p><p> </p><p>Taking each enter actions and turning it over and over in his mind. The small laughs at his jokes, the notes, and corrections to his spelling on his papers.( never mean, never hurtful, just reminders, little tips) the small wrapped sandwiches and snacks he'd find hidden in his desk, always with badly doodled faces on them. Worried faces passed in the halls.(Niki haven't said anything, hadn't wondered why he looks so much like a walking corpse) hadn't asked about more than Wilbur( always Wilbur, always whens and hows but never why)</p><p>The hand was still in his hair. Still gently combing through. A low humming came from his right. Twisting onto his side he faced the edge of the couch(not willing to open his eyes again for fear, this time he'd lose it, this time it would evaporate like sugar into water) reaching a hand out he tugged at the end of schlatts rolled-up sleeve. To make sure his words were heard( and wasn't that a novel idea)</p><p>The kid had closed his eyes again. He was worried and hopefully, a strange emotion to feel, pounding heart and steady hands. He kept carding his hands through his hair and began humming that old Tone again, letting the sound reverberate in the large room. The turning caught him off guard, his kid settled onto his side(facing him, reaching out for his sleeve) a gently tug and a quiet almost inaudible word from his kid, and then it was over.even breathes in and out, slack face and low snores( his words replayed in schlatts mind, over and over, "Thank you") what had he done that was worthy of thanks?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. escaping into awaiting arms, praying for a second chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry for the grammar and spell mistakes, spell check only gets me so far</p><p>still debating if i should rewrite this from Tommy view cause I have no idea how to write techno<br/>any and all comments are amazing and lovely</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Techno had done a lot in his life. Had dominated countless battles and won evermore praise for it. But now, those achievements pale in comparison. (even if it was too little too late, even if he should have done so much better) He sat watched for too long, was idle and uncaring to the things going on around him. Let himself be used as a tool. Had waited like a dog on a chain for that man( had been used as a warning, people were not afraid of him but for him). And yet he hadn't noticed his falling. Hadn't smell the smoke of madness that was a prelude to immolation, to destruction. He'd seen it before, had watched greater men than Wilbur fall to it, that all-consuming want for more.</p><p>He'd finally seen it as it was, and now he couldn't believe himself( couldn't excuse what he'd been part of, no matter how unknowing), could no longer disconnect his unwillingness to see and the violence that fell onto Tommy.carrying the weight of a guilty conscience along with the child he swore to protect with everything he had(why had he waited so long to protect him). He wondered how long ago he should have decided that. How much hurt and fear he could have the saved Tommy from if only he had seen. ( tubbo too, tubbo who always seemed so tired)</p><p>They should be far enough away from pogtopia now to rest. But disturbing the kid slumped against his back made him reconsider. In the lamplight of that vast, hollow cavern Tommy had looked so stricken. So pale that his scars flushed and flashed in the dull lights. Had he always had so many? </p><p>When techno had heard that sound, the crack of bone and the tearing of muscle he knew, knew that Wilbur had taken it too far. His hooves pounded against the uneven floor as he bounded back to where he had left them both. What he came back to was sicking, Tommy half collapsed on the floor, heaving breaths like a man on the brink of drowning, and Wilbur standing above him sword ready to strike. </p><p>Hed charged him, blind rage filling him as he shoved Wilbur august the wall. Pressed a small dagger against his neck. With fury in his eyes demanded to know why he had done it, why he was standing over a child with the intent to kill. There wasn't even fear in the other's eyes, only the spirling madness that would suck you in if it got the chance. </p><p> </p><p>Sunlight streamed through the trees as they galloped forward, questions plagued his mind. Where could they go? Could he protect Tommy and fight off Wilbur if(when) it came to it? Was Tubbo ok? He pushed forward(tried ignoring the little voice in his head that whispered that schlatt could keep Tommy safe, could offer them a place to build something away from the creeping rot of madness.)bad and skeppy were wildcards, for now, Niki was under schlatt and techno didn't know if he could trust her,(didn't know if he could trust anyone but he had to try) hbomb and Karl were both outside the conflict, staying at the fringes of the fighting and despite everything, he didn't want to drag them into this(didn't want to add more pieces to the chessboard)</p><p>Tommy shifted against his back, hissing through his teeth as he pulled the horses to a stop. Techno was no doctor but he knew that Tommy wasn't alright. The kid put on a brave face and barely flinched as his battered side was wrapped. (even as techno could feel the loosed rib shift under the skin) but the dappled almost black bruises spoke volumes to the medical attention Tommy needed right now. </p><p>Thin hands tightened around his waist, nails digging into the cloth of his vest as Tommy wheezed against his back. He wasn't sure how long they sat there letting Tommy steady his breathing. Yet the end never came, the ragged wheezing breaths never stopped, and as if whatever was watching wanted to spit in his face they grew worse. (as if watching his little brother suffer thanks to his inactions wasn't punishment enough) Turing shallow and rapid and interspersed with low wet coughs.<br/>
\<br/>
Techno kicked his hours back into a gallop, taking the treed hills as fast as he could(thanking every god that he had run this path more time then he could count)he could still feel Tommy shaking like a leaf behind him as they ran forward,(towards manburg, toward the safest place for them now, into the waiting arms of a man who would decide their fate) techno wasn't giving Tommy up without a fight and if he had to fight time and death to make sure his little brother was safe he would. He would move the world for him if he could( he'd already lost his older brother, he couldn't lose the other) He could see the half walls of manburg as they crested a hill,(they were so close, please just a little longer,)</p><p>He knew Tommy saw it too as he tried to protest. Tried to argue about how angry Wilbur would be, how much they were losing by walking into schlatt hands, mumbling half-formed words into techno cape(how terrified Tommy truly was of making Wilbur angry, of his oldest brother, the one who was supposed to protect him) yet he pressed forward, pushed towards a respawn point out of the dark, damp ruined cave. Ran his horse ragged in an attempt as salvation.</p><p>As they entered marburg, crossing the older borders he could see a few people turn and stare at them. The sun pulled itself high into the sky, illuminating the two of them in the bright light of day. White and pink scars almost shimmering in the light, sunken faces and ashy skin painted a picture of days gone wrong. Techno raised his head and searched for a familiar face, fundy or tubbo, Niki, or even dream,(he didn't find them, fundy and Niki were away whisperings of revolution, not seeing how prosperous marburg had become, still blinded by the past. Tubbo was barely stirring in schlatts office, dreaming of better days to come, dream was away, wandering the outskirts of the world,) </p><p>What he did see was the silhouette of a man with ram horn looking down at them from the balcony of the white house. Techno could have wept when a silhouetted hand pointed them towards the stables.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Not a chapter, just excuses lmao</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>so bacelly Iv managed to lose my laptop, witch is a problem cause writing and editing stuff on my phone is a pain(and my autocorrect can't keep up with my inability to spell). So I'll do my best to keep up with the story but it might be a little later then usual. Sorry for updating without acehlly adding a new chapter but I wanted to just inform u lovely people :^</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is not a chapter but I do have a new one like half done.it will come out, just read the chapter note/summery to get a explanation on the suff happening.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>im back baby! got a laptop on the want for quackity chapter. do i know whose chapter is next? no! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>also. if there any errors, feel free to point them out, cause i cant spell to save my life</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quckity had been watching tubbo, watching him slowly becoming a ghost as he walked the halls. Caring papers and notes, books, and boxes that disappeared into previously unused rooms. He didn't know what to think of the kid anymore. He had always been jumpy, walking on eggshells and flinching away from raised hands. He could guess why(a child who grew up in war, grew up on a diet of propaganda and fear would never be quite as anyone expected). It still worried him( it was like looking back into a mirror some days, the fogged-over eyes and the trembling hands)</p>
<p>He did his best for the kid, left him snacks, and tried his best to make sure he was comfortable. He even made a room for him, ordered a bed, a wardrobe and vanity, three sturdy chairs, and a table to match(didn't think about why he got three, didn't think of the importance of the number)</p>
<p>He was looking for tubbo when he almost ran into schlatt, the ram bolting down the hallways like the devil himself was on his heels( maybe he was in a way, guilt had a way of making shadows looks like devils). Before he could get a word in schlatt grabbed his arm and pulled him along with him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In a flash of sunlight, they were outside and schlatt was yelling for a medic. The grip on his arm tightening as Schlatt ran towards the stables. Two others joined them, quackity recognized them as healers but couldn't name them(he could barely name anyone else here, was always engrossed in what even work schlatt wasn't) </p>
<p>What they came to was interesting and heartbreaking. Techno had Tommy cradled in his arms, the kid's head tucked into the olders shoulder. (he could see the white of techno shirt had small flecks of red spread on it) the medics stood back, the fear in their eyes seeming to betray their oath. But the look on technos face, the panicked begging expression as he looked up at the two of them from his knees. It was a short pleay,  but not whispered, not quite. said in the hush of the stable but it had so much more emotion than either of them had heard from the man before. (everything was going by so fast, events blurring into each other and memory overlaying the reality of what is)</p>
<p>A burst of movement from the medics made quackity jump a small amount.(made techno bear his tusks in a half snarl as Tommy was lifted from his arms) techno looked so small then, on his knees, his arms still poised to cradle his little brother, his head down as if awaiting execution. </p>
<p>Neither of the two looked healthy. Their eyes were bagged and their fingernails were dirty. The skin he could see had an ashy tint to it like they stood at the edge of a fire and succumbed to the flames for a little. Technos hair was pulled into its braid but it was haphazard and greasy. The pink looked almost red in the dull lantern light. Tommy was pale, he looks so much like a phantom.(it was fitting in an aching way, that Tommy and tubbo matched like that ) </p>
<p>Quckity could see the blue veins on Tommy's hands, his collar bones poking out past the loose collar of his shirt and the off white of the bandages wrapped around his shoulder. He was in clothes that had to be technos. A too-big shirt, matched with light gray pants and barely laced boots( the looks of someone who ran as quickly as they could, who gathered all he cared about into his arms as he bolted) </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Quckity could see the glint of a battle-ax still in the pack on the horse. It would be easy, to take techno out of the fight now, to take Tommy in and send techno back to the rat whole the so-called ‘revolution’ had made. His thought cut short as Schlatt dropped to his knees(he'd never done that, never dipped his head low enough to look someone in the eyes.)</p>
<p>Quckity left the two of them to their own failing words and followed the two carrying Tommy( he would never forgive himself if anything happened to tubbos friend) he watched as they hed him between the two of them, the kid was so small. Not like tubbo, not small in the way you could forget tubbo was in the room with you, or how you could pass him in the hallways if you weren't looking for him. No, Tommy was small in how he curled into himself as he was carried. How he tucked his legs a high as they could go, how he pushed his chin into his chest.(they both were just kids, it was so easy to see, they were just kids all three of them)</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. and so the gods will rest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tubbo gets a dad, tommy gets a dad, techno gets a dad!! </p>
<p>found family schlatt is the only thing kwwping me going, if i had the wearwithall to actually write it</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The moment Tommy left his arms, the second the kid he'd sworn to protect left his sight the voices came back. All together. All screaming as a unison crowed for blood, for Wilbur to bleed for what he had done. (they knew techno couldn't handle distractions before, not when Tommy needed help, not when Wilbur was a powder keg of violence and self-righteous pity.)</p>
<p>God, they were so loud. Techno brought his hands to his ear, trying so desperately to block the noise that sang for his twin's destruction. (he hadn't done that since he was a child, he'd long learned it didn't help anyone)but then it was all he could think to do to help. </p>
<p>He felt hands gently settle on his wrists, the cold of keratin and the clack of almost hooves against the thick gold bands he wore around his wrists. His hands were pulled away from the tangle of semi-braided chains and golden beads that were eternally woven in his hair.(and he let them, why did he let them?)</p>
<p>The longer they screamed the less coherent they became, some pleading for him to be with Tommy, others demanding that he slaughter them all, some the quieter newer one, begging in a soft tone for him to rest. It took a few seconds for the world to take shape in his eyes, running on adrenaline and fear taking a toll on him now. But as he looked up to his almost captaer(savior?) He could see the softness in his eyes, the crease of worry in his brow. (Schlatt looked so much like Phil then, a parent worried for their child something was truly universal)</p>
<p>Schlatt spoke softly, words bleeding into each other and the chorus in his head devolving again. He could see Schlatts mouth moving, the twist of his lips, his hands gently holding his arms(not tightly, not so much to keep him but to ground him) the black keratin covered thumbs rubbing small circles into the back of his hands. Schlatts hands were so much like his, fingers dipped into ink-black, trailing down and down but never meeting his palms. Shape nails used as a last resort(anything a weapon if you afraid enough) </p>
<p>Techno couldn't tell how long he sat there. His legs went numb by the time he had the ability to move them. Schlatt never left his side, just waited for him to make the first move. He knew his horse was getting restless in the stall behind him, but he couldn't bring his shaking hands to do anything about it. ( and if the fact he was too weak to even care for his Horse hit him, if the voices mocked him for it he would never say) the voices wore themselves out in the end, they always did. The shouting and screaming tapering off into nothingness. And all techno was let with was exhaustion and a bitter taste in his mouth. </p>
<p>He pulled in a deep breath as he pulled himself up, relying on the wall of the stall next to him to hold his weight. Schlatt stood with him, his hands hovering as if ready to catch him. ( he couldn't remember the last time he had someone to fall back on, even Phil was less of a father and more of a friend than he should have been) schlatt stayed quiet as he hobbled his way to the barn doors. Techno wasn't sure if the other knew he was nursing a splitting headache or if he was merely being cautious but either was grateful non the less. </p>
<p>The last bits of sunlight burnt his eyes as he exited the barn. It was golden now, the water around l´manburg sprinkled with the glow of the molten gold light. He couldn't help but think it was the same color as ichor, dripping from Apollo as an apology to Icarus, drifting down into the water as a final goodbye. His sleep-deprived and adrenaline addled brain conjured all sorts of strange ideas it seems. (and yet it was fitting, a god giving all he was to a boy who flew too far into danger, who built his wings and made his life his own,  just cut short by reckless abandon.) </p>
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<p>His voice was hoarse but he managed to rasp out ¨Bring me to Tommy.¨ his speech punctuated by a fit of coughing that would have sent him carrianing into the ground if not for schlatts steadying hand around his waist and grounding hand laid on his shoulder. He let himself be guided into the white house, through the twisting corridors, and into what was obviously a medical wing. A few beds sat along the walls, curtains open on all except one. </p>
<p>Breaking away from schlatts hold he rushed as fast as his exhausted body would let him towards tommys bed. ( it had to be Tommy's bed, Tommy was sleeping there safe and sound because if he wasn't techno didn't know what he'd do.) he gently pulled back the curtain, his claws tearing small holes into the fabric as he looked down at his little brother's face. He was sure this is what pure relief felt like, his shoulders sagged as he felt all the fight left in him falter. It was Schlatt who made sure he didn't crack his head on the cool tile floor. </p>
<p>Techno let Schlatt unclasp the heavy cape around his shoulder, letting him pull off the twisted metal mantle he had. And he watched as Schlatt pulled the door shut as the medical room closed, the moonlight began to trail through the windows. He fell asleep to the sounds of Tommy's steady breathing and the slight sounds of crickets outside the windows. ( and for the first time in a long time he felt that maybe he had done the right thing, that he could rest for a little.)</p>
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